“Well, that’s why we’re here,” I say. “This investor is apparently still a big part of the financials within the corporation. Our hope is to find him and force him to shut it all down.”

“You want him to do it willingly?” he asks.

“That would be the goal, yeah,” I say.

“What would he be doing here?” he asks. “Why some shitty prep academy across the country?”

“The investor is unnamed in the paperwork, but Leandra thinks—”

Jackson bristles at her name, but I keep talking.

“—that he’s been laundering money through this school,” I say. “Leandra said the school was mentioned in the academy’s bank documents. She figured the investor is the father of a kid here. A boy.”

I point to where the players are running down the field. Jackson trails them with his eyes, studying them a moment longer, looking as unimpressed as I feel.

“Okay. What are you going to do when you find this investor guy?” he asks. “These are terrible people. They’re not going to just … stop.”

“I realize that,” I say. “We want to shut it down without exposing ourselves to the public. So we’ll have to find a way to convince him. One option: If we find his son, we’ll use him to extract information on the father. Something truly illegal that the investor wouldn’t want exposed.”

“You’re going to blackmail him,” Jackson says.

“We don’t want to,” I say, trying to explain. “But—”

“No, I understand,” he says, waving off my explanation. “I’ve seen enough to know that bad men don’t just give up power. It has to be taken from them.”

I stare at the side of Jackson’s face. I’m reminded that he hates the academy as much as we do. He may not be perfect, but he is good.

“We’re going to stop them,” I say, watching him. “They won’t win.”

“Can I help?” Jackson asks quietly. When he turns to me, I shake my head.

“No,” I say. “You can’t put yourself in any more danger.” I motion to his leg.

Jackson sniffs a laugh. “And you can’t tell me what to do.” He smiles softly, but there is catastrophic hurt on his face.

I long to fix it. To put my palm on his cheek and make it better.

But I don’t.

“I have to go,” Jackson says, grabbing his crutches. He gets to his feet, hopping a second and looking unsteady. “I’ll drop off the paperwork to the girls, but my number’s the same if you call again.”

I never admitted that I called him, but he smiles anyway.

“I’ve missed you, Mena,” he adds with a shrug. “It was good to see you again.”

He turns and starts down the aisle, his crutches wobbly as he tries to make his way without knocking into people. I watch until he’s gone from the bleachers. And the minute he is, I squeeze my eyes shut, admonishing myself for how much I’ve missed him, too.

But I did abandon him. I did purposely hurt him to get him away from us. All I’ve done is ruin his life. In return, he shouldn’t care what happens to me. But he does. And my inability to return that kindness is almost as bad as if I’d broken his leg myself.

“Are you trying to make me jealous?”

Startled, I look up and find Garrett walking toward me. I flinch when he sits next to me.

“I have to go,” I say quickly, trying to get up. But he grabs the sleeve of my sweater to drag me down on the bench next to him.

“Don’t be rude,” Garrett says. I look over to where his friends are sitting, but they’re purposely not looking back at us. Everyone else in the crowd is focused on the game.

“Don’t touch me,” I say, yanking my sweater from his grip. He finds my refusal hilarious and tells me so.

“Since you thought it was your place to interrupt me earlier, I figured it’d give me a chance to be just as intrusive.” He looks me over. “Who was the guy? Your boyfriend?”

“It’s none of your business,” I say. “And I spoke up because you were being inappropriate.”

“Inappropriate?” He laughs. “What are you, a teacher?”

Annoyed, I start to get up again, but he puts his hand on my thigh to hold me in place. I jump, slapping his hand off me, my eyes wide.

“No!” I insist loudly enough to make the woman in his row look back at us.

Garrett’s expression immediately clouds with embarrassment. He looks around to see if anyone else noticed me reject him. And then suddenly, viciously, he reaches out with both hands and grabs me by the collar of my shirt, his fingernails scratching my neck, and pulls me within inches of his face.

My expression contorts in pain, horror. Absolute terror. Tears spring to my eyes, but I freeze, gasping for breath. For a moment, I don’t see Garrett. I see Guardian Bose threatening me, his sour breath spreading over my face.

“First lesson, Phil-o-mena,” Garrett whispers. “Girls don’t say no to me. They thank me.”

I can’t stand his hands on me. I can’t stand him this close to me. I curl my hand into a fist and punch his arms. He pretends to be shocked and holds up his hands innocently, releasing my shirt.

“Relax,” he says loudly, as if I instigated the violence. He’s the kind of person who’ll punch you, and when you fight back, claim to be the victim.

I can’t catch my breath. I can’t calm my thoughts. He caught me off guard.

Looking around the bleachers, I see several faces watching us curiously. But it all starts to spin.

I have to get out of here. I wrap my arms around myself, protecting myself, and rush off the bleachers as Garrett and his friends catcall after me.

When I get to the bottom landing and turn the corner to exit the bleachers, someone grabs my arm. I yelp and spin around, surprised to find Mr. Marsh. He quickly puts his hands up in apology.

“Philomena,” he says, looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I … You seem upset.” He glances back at the bleachers, searching until he spots Garrett and his friends. I’m not imagining that there’s a flash of anger in my teacher’s expression. When he turns to me again, his eyes stray to my neck and his eyes soften.

“You’re hurt,” he says, reaching out.

I touch the area on my neck and realize immediately that I have scratches—sore and raised—from Garrett’s fingernails.

“I have to go,” I say, moving a step back. I don’t want him to see my injuries. I don’t want him to touch me. I just want to escape.

Girls don’t say no to me.

“I have to go,” I repeat louder, and hurry away without looking back.

17

I rush through the parking lot, checking behind me to make sure Garrett and his friends aren’t following me. They’re not, and part of that could be because this is their everyday. They attack without consequence. If asked, he’d probably say he did nothing wrong.

But I’m shaking so badly that my teeth are chattering.

“Mena?” a voice calls. I jump at the sound and look back.

I find Lennon Rose running after me, Corris Hawkes walking just behind her. Lennon Rose’s expression is tight with concern.